All Hallows' Eve
by whycantifindafriknusername
Summary: On Halloween night, the dark lord falls, and Severus finds his worst nightmare come to life. Dark-ish.


Hey. Long time no see, eh? I know, I know, what am I doing, uploading a new story when I'm supposed to be updating Infortunium? Well, this idea wouldn't get out of my head, so here it is. Enjoy!

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Lucius Malfoy poured himself a glass of Chateau Latour Pauillac - as only the most expensive wines made it into The House Of Malfoy - and raised the bottle in his long-time friend's direction.

Though the rich, dark undertones of chocolate, licorice, and black cherry of the wine called to him, he raised a palm in declination.

Lucius frowned, but said nothing, and set the crystal decanter down.

They were in the parlour of the Malfoy mansion, attempting to calm themselves after a death eater meeting only hours before. Well, he was, anyways. The Malfoys were not quite so shaken as he, though his tension was barely noticable only to those who knew him well.

The blonde-haired man opened his mouth as if to say something, then appeared to think better of it, and brought his glass to his lips with his right hand. His repetitious glances at him, however, did not go unnoticed, though he was not looking directly at the man.

His peace was disturbed a few minutes later, as the Malfoy patriarch, once again, opened his mouth.

"Are you all right?"

He sat there in an elegant, plush chair for a few seconds, before answering, tonelessly,

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

Lucius snorted, staring pointedly at him in a way that said, _you don't fool me._

He idly watched as the man across from him, leaning luxuriously against the mahogany buffet behind him, took another sip from his wine and smacked his lips.

"Severus, I know you still have feelings for the mud- excuse me, _muggleborn_, but if you get in the dark lord's way, _he will kill you_, and there will be nothing I can do to help you. You know this."

The dark-haired man met the eyes of his friend and smoothly lied in a low, silky, purr,

"I have no idea what you're going on about. And even if I did still fancy her, I wouldn't want your help."

Lucius glared at him, but softened when he heard the last part. He knew what the newly instated Head of Slytherin House really meant; _don't endanger yourself over me._

"Pish-posh. The only reason you offered to kidnap Potter Jr. was to eliminate the need for the dark lord to go after the boy's parents himself, and more importantly, _her._ Rank climbing, my arse."

There was a collective silence in the room as they reflected upon what happened right after their return to the manor. Severus hadn't even managed to firmly set one arsecheek on his seat before Bellatrix had burst into the parlour and started screaming at him. She was convinced his ploy to bring the child to the dark lord was an attempt to gain favor with him, and consequentially, undermine her rank. He told her, in not so many words, to leave, which, of course, Bellatrix did not take kindly to. Quite a few colorful words were exchanged before Narcissa had made her displeasure at their argument known, while her husband looked on in detached amusement. Bellatrix left in a huff, making sure to glare daggers at him while muttering nasty things about him under her breath.

If she had seen the way he'd stayed behind after everyone had left the meeting, gotten down on his hands and knees and_ begged _for Lily Potter's life, she would have cackled in glee and never let him live it down. But she hadn't. No one had, which he was grateful for. Merlin knew the Malfoys didn't need any more ammo to interrogate him with.

Suddenly, a cry rent the air, snapping everyone out of their stupor.

He glanced over at a large, velvet lounge, where Narcissa Malfoy was curled up, her son snugly nestled in her arms. Draco Malfoy, his godson ( he still couldn't quite believe they had named him, _him, Severus Snape, _godfather ) had woken up from his nap, and was rather distraught at not waking up swaddled in his favorite blankie. Despite being only five months old, he kicked up such a fuss that Lucius walked over and sat beside his wife in an attempt to help calm the hollering child. Lucius switched his glass from his right hand to his left, and reached over to cradle one of his son's flailing hands in his. It took Narcissa's soft lullabies and Lucius' allowance of Draco chewing on his father's perfectly manicured hand before the boy finally drifted back to sleep. Severus witnessed the entire event with the corner of his lips upturned in the barest of smiles. Outside of the manor, the Malfoys may have appeared cold and aloof, but in the presence of their son, they transformed into complete and utter softies, catering to their son's every whim. Even at such a tender, young age, Draco Malfoy was spoiled rotten.

He continued watching as Narcissa gently rocked her son back and forth, a look of unmitigated contentment and relief on both parents' faces.

Lucius seemed dead set on destroying the peace tonight, however. When he looked up from his son at him with a serious expression back on his face, Severus knew what he would say and cut him off before his friend had the chance to utter a single syllable.

"_Don't."_

Lucius caught the look that flashed across his friend's face before it was buried by his occlumency shields.

They sat there for some time, both trying to sway the other into submission by having a stare-off, though Lucius knew Severus would win. The smug bastard always won.

True to his unsaid word, Severus stared at his friend unblinkingly until Lucius averted his gaze. Lucius would never admit it, but those dark eyes unnerved him when he stared into them for too long. The man was only twenty-one, but his eyes were those of someone far older. They said the eyes were windows to one's soul, and if he didn't believe it before, he did now.

He exhaled, and attempted to lift his glass to his lips once more when a crippling pain shot through his left forearm, causing him to startle and drop his wine. Beside him, Narcissa had nearly jumped out of her skin, and inadvertently jostled Draco, who awoke with a loud caterwaul.

It was Severus, however, who had the most severe reaction. He stood abruptly, making his chair - a heavyset, leather, wingback with a wooden frame - skid across the floor almost a foot with a loud _screech_.

Lucius hastily undid the buttons on his cufflink and yanked his sleeve back to reveal a writhing dark mark. The pain was not that of a summons - there was no tugging on one's soul to get up and find your master, and the pain was a _hell of a lot_ worse.

Then, to everyone's astonishment, as all eyes were fixed on Lucius's arm, the pain faded, and so too, did the mark.

Severus, for once, actually looked the way he felt - absolutely flabbergasted - and stood with his mouth hanging open, gaping at Lucius's now bare arm in a twisted parody of awe.

The adults were frozen in a grave silence that was broken only by Draco's wailing.

It wasn't until a few tense seconds later that he snapped out of it and frantically undid the buttons on his left sleeve as well and bared his arm to all three pairs of watching eyes - pale, smooth, and clear of any and all markings.

Slowly, as if the dark lord himself would come charging through the door, hurling the killing curse at them if he moved too fast, Lucius turned and met his wife's anxiety-filled eyes.

"What in Circe's name is happening?" Narcissa did not need to look at her arm to know her mark was gone as well.

As this was one of the rare times in his life that Lucius was rendered speechless, he merely shook his head to signal he had no idea.

He glanced back over at Severus and tensed. One look at his friend's horror-stricken face immediately told him of the conclusion the dark-haired man had arrived at - which never happened, and was a sign that something was really and truly wrong with the man.

He stood cautiously, paying no attention to the crunching of the shattered glass, the dark burgundy of the wine staining the expensive carpet beneath his boots.

"Severus-"

With a rather elegant swish of his black robes, the man in question pivoted on his heel and swiftly strode to the door, acquainted enough with the mansion to see himself out.

_"Severus, wait!"_

But Lucius's cry fell on deaf ears, the sound of Draco's whimpering the only thing following the dark man out.

He hastened down the main hall as fast as he could without out-right running. Soon, he reaching the entrance, and the doors magically swung open for him, shutting behind him silently as he swept past.

It wasn't very long before he actually started running down the long, winding driveway of the manor, cursing it's length in his head, desperate to reach the gate, and beyond it, the edge of the wards that prevented him from disapparating on the spot.

It took only a few minutes, but to him, it felt like hours before he reached the gate. Like the main doors, it too, opened for him magically. The moment he passed through the wards, he was gone in a flurry of black robes and and an audible _crack._

He, of course, knew where Lily and James Potter lived, and arrived in Godric's Hollow with another _crack._ Paying no mind to the icy, late October night air, he promptly started down the line of quaint little cottages covered in Halloween decorations, stopping in front of the Potters' home.

Immediately, his shrewd eyes honed in on the front door, which was wide open. There were no lights on in the windows, and the house was completely silent.

_Damn it, Dumbledore!_

It was then that the panic really set in, and he jumped forward, intent on _getting in there_, before he sensed the wards right before him.

And, of course, he was not privy to the password.

Growling swear words that would make even his father's ears turn red, he whipped his wand out of his sleeve and shot off every unlocking charm, opening spell, and slicing hex he knew. They all bounced off harmlessly, but the wards shuddered. Still, there were no signs of life from the house.

"Partis Temporus! Alohamora! Diffindo! Annihilare! _Sectumsempra!_"

Whether it was only one of them or a combination of them, he knew not, and he cared not, except that it worked. And it did.

There was a large, gaping hole in the barrier, but it was closing fast.

Without a second thought, he stepped through.

The hole closed behind him, and faded, the barrier returning to invisibility.

He stalked up the front path and through the door, making his way down the entranceway, his wand poised in front of him, ready to strike. He peered around the corner into the living room, and finding it clear of life, silently walked in. He didn't dare call out.

The room was in chaos, looking like it had been the place of a wizard's duel, which it had been. Most of their knickknacks had fallen off the tables and mantle and lay, broken, on the floor. There were tears and scorch marks on the walls and furniture, several of which were overturned.

His anxiety, which had been steadily building the past five minutes, quadrupled when he spotted a pair of feet peeking out behind the couch.

Slowly, he made his way behind the couch and was greeted by the blank, unseeing, _dead,_ hazel eyes of James Potter.

Only one thought was running through his mind as he stared down at his mortal enemy's corpse.

_"Lily."_

He turned and ran to the staircase that presumably led to the bedrooms.

_This can't be happening._

He practically flew up the stairs in his haste to _get to her._

_No no no no no._

His sensitive ears picked up the sound of a baby crying.

_He's still alive. Maybe Lily is, too?_

He swiftly followed the sound down the hallway, stopping at the last door at the end, which was ajar.

"Lily?" He didn't dare speak above a whisper. The wailing continued.

The sound of the door creaking open was abnormally loud in the tense silence, little Harry Potter's voice the only thing accompanying it.

He froze, his hand outstretched, as he caught sight of a person with long, auburn tresses splayed on the floor, arms out in a protective gesture, in front of a crib, which held the now screaming child. His wand dropped to the floor with a clatter, and rolled a few feet away.

_**No.**_

_It wasn't real. It was just an illusion. It was just a dream. Wake up wake up wake up. _

He stumbled to her, collapsing at her side, and simply sat there, staring at her. Dull, lifeless green eyes stared blankly back at him.

_**Wake up wake up wake up. **_

If he noticed the tears streaming down his pallid face, he made no move to wipe them or hide them in any way.

He lifted a shaky hand and reached for hers. She did not move, did not blink, did not breath, as he cupped her hand in his. A choked sob erupted from somewhere near his gut; she was still warm, though her palm yielded no pulse.

He pulled her body to his, hugging her against him and crying brokenly into her hair. He breathed in her familiar scent - flowers and sunshine and that heady perfume she'd always wore - which was not yet tarnished by the stench of death and decay.

One hand was wrapped around her back, the other was cradling the back of her head, pressing her into his chest as he howled his lament into the night, blubbering like that wretched nickname the marauders had dubbed him with all those years ago.

It was ironic, really, because they had never truly seen him cry. He had made damn sure he did not give them that satisfaction. He had not given anyone that satisfaction since he was a young child, and his father had beaten him, then beaten up his mother while he watched. It wasn't until he saw the flash of smugness in his father's eyes as he made his mother cry that he realized that crying was a weakness, something the strong used against the weak. After that, the few times he had cried had been in private, with multiple privacy and muffling charms in place.

Until now.

It could have been minutes, hours, days before he stopped emitting such pathetic sounds, though his tears did not stop. Reluctantly, he gently lowered her to the ground, reverently tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. He stumbled slightly as he rose, as if he were drunk, his black eyes hazy and unfocused.

An odd, keening sound permeated the air, and he stood there, listening to it stupidly. Movement in front of Lily caught his eye, and he realized the sound was Potter Jr. crying again.

_Had he ever stopped? He couldn't remember._

Sluggishly, he bypassed Lily, ambling over to the crib, where the brat lay, flailing his little limbs in the air and screeching his little head off.

The sound was not pleasant to Severus's ears, and grated on his shot nerves. He glared at the little thing, but the kid continued kicking and screaming.

There was a gash in the infant's forehead that was still bleeding, and Severus paused. The dark lord would not have let the boy get away with just a cut, and Severus put two and two together. The dark mark disappearing, the position Lily held in front of her son, the survival of the boy himself...

Lily...

He could not bring himself to look at his dead love's body, so continued staring at her son.

He could already tell that Harry Potter would grow up to look just like his father. The nose, the mouth, the chin, even the wild, black hair was all an exact copy.

The child was still bawling, his eyes squeezed shut, his little hands clenched into fists on his chest.

_She didn't deserve to die..._

Rage coursed through him, scalding his veins and dilating his pupils as his nostrils flared. He saw nothing but James as he stared down at the infant, grinding his teeth in fury.

_You are not worthy of her love..._

The incessant blustering only angered him all the more.

_If it weren't for you, Lily would still be alive..._

Within the span of a second, his wand was summoned from doorway and pointed between the boy's eyes, poised to kill.

_It would be so easy to kill you..._

Ignorant, once again, of the danger in front of him, the child continued fussing.

_Just two little words..._

He gripped his wand tightly, though it trembled imperceptibly.

_It wasn't the first time he had killed a child... the dark lord had seen to that._

His mouth opened, prepared to utter the first syllable of the killing curse when he saw boy open his eyes.

Immediately, memories of Lily's eyes flashed through his mind, of her running in the field near spinner's end, glancing back at him in playful joy. Of her softly smiling at him, her bright eyes running appreciatively over the bouquet of wildflowers he had picked for her. Of her curious eyes completely focused on the task in front of her, hanging on to his every word as he explained a difficult potion, spell, or other class work she could not seem to grasp. _Of her, upside down in his view, angrily glaring at him before storming off..._

He was hit by a wave of grief so intense that he nearly doubled over. He gasped in shock, and lowered his wand, his grip slackening.

The boy's eyes, the only thing he had inherited from his mother, were a vibrant green, bright and full of life, so similar and yet, so different than the ones belonging to the corpse behind him.

His anger had abated, leaving behind guilt, remorse, and a cold, hard feeling in the pit of his stomach that almost made him physically sick.

_What was I doing?_

Lily had sacrificed herself for her son, and here he was, about to finish off the job the dark lord failed to do.

He lowered his head in shame, his hair falling in curtains around his face, hiding it from view.

_I'm sorry, Lily..._

His tears began anew upon thinking of the dead woman, the clear liquid tracing the paths of their predecessors.

_I'm so sorry..._

_If only I had come sooner..._

_If only I had known the dark lord would chose this night to..._

The boy had picked up volume upon seeing another person in front of his crib, and started flailing his limbs again, seeking attention.

The dark man with pale skin blinked once, scowling down at the menace, before raising his wand to the boy's forehead once more.

The vividly colored eyes tracked the tip of the long, ebony stick as it slowly made its way over to the wound above his right eye.

_"Vulnera sanetur. Vulnera sanetur. Vulnera sanetur." _

Each time the song-like incantation was spoken, the tip of his wand passed over the gash, first, to stop the bleeding, second, to clear it of dark magic residue, and third, to close it.

He stopped to inspect his work, and then nodded to himself, pleased his spell had worked against a curse cast by the dark lord himself.

Harry also appeared to be pleased with his work, as he had ceased his shrieking, only letting out little whimpers now and then.

The low, silky purr of the pale man's voice had soothed him, and he yawned contentedly before promptly stuffing his fist into his mouth. His bright eyes were beginning to get heavy; all that bawling and thrashing had tuckered him out, though his tummy was beginning to gurgle. Mommy would have to feed him soon.

Severus snorted at the boy. He truly had no idea how much danger he had been in, and still was, with him there. He told the boy so.

Evidently, the boy did not think he would hurt him, as he snuffled and fluttered his eyes up at the pale man.

The dark eyes seemed to consider him for a moment, before a pale, elegant hand with long fingers made its way to his forehead and began wiping away the dried blood. He enjoyed the touch, as he did with all he came in contact with, and reached for the hand when it began to pull away.

He did not expect the boy to cling to him, and he certainly did not expect the brat to stare up at him and giggle, his cheeks puffed out in a toothless grin.

He pulled his hand away, and those warm eyes began to fill with tears, a shrill cry on the tip of his tongue.

"Uh!" The boy reached his arms towards the pale man, who only raised an eyebrow at him.

"Uh! Uh!"

Severus deduced the child was trying to say _up,_ but did nothing. He had nothing against infants, but was not eager to hold one.

The youngest Potter had the audacity to let out an irritated squawk, thrashing his arms in impatience before holding them out expectantly.

When the pale man still did nothing, his face scrunched up and his mouth opened in the beginning of another good wail, forcing Severus into action. He did not want to hear the irritating screeching again, and letting out a long-suffering sigh, calculated the best way to hold the boy before picking him up under his armpits and settling him against his chest.

The boy gurgled happily staring up at him unabashedly while patting his chest, then running a little hand along the thick, smooth fabric of his cloak. He seemed to like it, as he tried to put it in his mouth, but the pale man held him away from his chest. Undeterred, Harry reached out and snagged his cloak in his grip, prepared to carry it into his waiting maw when the man snatched the material out of his grubby hand.

He began to sniffle, and when the man glared at him, let out a long shriek. Glancing away and growling under his breath, the pale man once more brought the boy to his chest. Elated, Harry immediately set about finding out what the black stuff tasted like.

Severus realized he must have looked like an arse standing there with an infant contentedly gumming his robes, but as long the brat kept quiet, he did not care.

Just then, there was a faint rumble coming from outside, and he silently drifted to the dark window, Harry clutched securely in his arms.

He watched as a single headlight descended from the sky and touched down on the cobblestone street, coming to a halt at the gate of the Potters', the engine growling ferociously before cutting off. Severus narrowed his eyes in recognition of the motorcycle.

Two pairs of black and green eyes watched as a ginormous figure dismounted the bike and hurried towards the gate, and it was then that Severus realized it wasn't Sirius who had arrived, but _Hagrid._

_What business does Hagrid of all people have here, if not the Potters' friends or Dumbledore?_

Hagrid was currently fumbling with something inside his cloak, and eventually found it. Severus could barely make out that ridiculous pink umbrella of Hagrid's in the light of the street lamps.

He watched interestedly as Hagrid tapped his umbrella twice on the gate, and the wards shimmered before allowing him passage. Severus scoffed.

_Of course, the big oaf would know the password, and I wouldn't._

However, this new development put him in a bit of a spot. Hagrid would find the dead Potters and undoubtedly take Harry to Dumbledore. That was fine; he couldn't take the child with him, as that would cause prying questions, and a lot of complications, considering the circumstances, but he wouldn't trust Hagrid with an infant with his back turned.

But there wasn't much of a choice; if he was caught with Harry, let alone anywhere near the Potter's cottage, the rumors of his being a death eater would get him thrown into Azkaban faster than he could say 'quidditch'.

Quickly reaching a decision, he pried the child off his robes and set him back into the crib. Somehow sensing the pale man was about to leave, Harry started to wail, his chubby hands waving wildly in the air in an attempt to grab a hold of the dark cloak.

Severus did not know what to think of that reaction, and stared at Harry in confusion as the boy made grabbing motions at him.

"One day, you will not want to be near me so badly, child."

Harry evidently did not care, and howled even louder, hoping his whining would make the pale man pick him up.

Severus ignored the boy, and turned around.

He managed to stifle the gasp that sought to escape his lips, though he could not stop the tightening of his throat. He imagined he would never get used to the sight of Lily's dead body, even if he had eternity to do so.

His countenance softened as he gazed at his lost love, his eyes full of sadness and regret. He allowed himself those few seconds of mourning before he straightened, his shields falling back into place as he buried his emotions. His eyes, though, were burning with purpose.

_I was not there to save you, Lily, but I will do my damnest to fulfill your dying wish, even if it's the last thing I do..._

Apparently, Hagrid had found James's body, as Severus heard muffled sobbing through the floor before the loud clomping of the great brute echoed up the stairs.

Severus walked over to the door, standing slightly behind it and melting into the shadows. It hid him from sight but afforded him a clear view of the room.

A few seconds later, Hagrid's loud footsteps sounded right outside the door, and another great sob joined Harry's keening.

"Oh, Lily! No!"

Hagrid shuffled over to Lily's body and dropped to his knees next to her. Severus felt a spark of possessive jealousy as Hagrid's meaty paw cupped Lily's pale cheek.

Hagrid sniffled and stroked her, once, twice, before carefully stepping around her and leaning down to peer at a screaming Harry.

"Hey there, little feller."

Harry was gently picked up and held in front of Hagrid's face, who was crying just as badly as the child was.

"It'll be all right. Don' cry, Hagrid's gottcha now..."

Severus watched in astonishment as Harry completely ignored Hagrid, instead looking over his shoulder at Severus, making more grabbing motions.

For some reason, he felt his chest tighten.

It appeared that Hagrid thought Harry wanted to be hugged, as he brought him to his broad chest, and Harry let out an indignant squawk as he lost sight of the pale man. The two blubbered loudly, though for different reasons.

Deeming the boy safe in the oaf's hands, and not wanting to listen to anymore of their theatrics, he silently glided out the door, not noticing the pair of vibrant green eyes peeking over Hagrid's shoulder, watching the pale man's cloak vanish around the corner.

Quiet as an owl, he made his way down the steps and into the living room, crossing in four, long strides and kicking James's body on the way out. It wasn't his brightest moment, and he wasn't proud of it, but he was angry at the fact that the man he had lost Lily to couldn't even protect her, and took it out on the corpse. And at the moment, he couldn't bring himself to care.

He passed the short gate and Sirius's bike, glance briefly up at the house before dissapparating. He did not want to deal with Dumbledore nor the Malfoys at the moment, and so arrived at his house in Spinner's end. As he stumbled inside, he shuffled into the kitchen and paused at the liquor cabinet near the fridge. He did not drink, as his worst memories contained the bruised and bloody victims' of his drunken father's fists, but decided that tonight, he could indulge, just this once.

Merlin knew he needed to _forget,_ even if only for a little while.

That was the first, and last, night that Severus had ever gotten completely and utterly shitfaced. And that night would forever be remembered as the worst night of his entire life.


End file.
